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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431082">Integrity like the Edge of a Sword</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettiot/pseuds/pettiot'>pettiot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Auron the Heretic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy X</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Casual Sex, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2010-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2010-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:41:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettiot/pseuds/pettiot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Auron tries to forget how these things always end.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Auron/OMC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Auron the Heretic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Integrity like the Edge of a Sword</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
</p><p>The thought strikes Auron only after he’s sheathed himself in the crusader’s guts, when the tall stranger with bright eyes <i>grins</i> to welcome the pain, and Auron can't help but think:</p><p>Will Braska smile, when he dies?</p><p>Auron imagines Braska will seem cheerful, only his voice to tell the tale, the only tale those formalized words of submission.  And Jecht, too, grinning, as though something important was about to happen to him at last—or so he thought, anyway.</p><p>Auron aches, his chest tight enough that he has to stop.</p><p>The crusader curls up, wrenches Auron’s tail.  From the thickness of the man’s bicep, Auron breathes road dust, bites to taste life’s salt; he adds brutal fingers to his width, hears the cry of a man who knows pain for glory.  Auron might never know this one’s name, but it will be a purposeful death for Braska, as formalised as the steps of this dance.</p><p>As meaningless.  A death just the same, when Sin should have had its fill of death.</p><p>Auron retreats at the last, spills his doubt across the pilgrimage path.  He scrapes dirt over an offering as tainted as all the others; no wonder Sin still hungers.</p>
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